


let me know (it's not just me)

by darkangel0410



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Biting, M/M, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 17:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14676033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: They grew up fighting over everything: video games, hockey, who was the better skater, who was taller, smarter.It wasn’t strange for it to escalate to wrestling and punching; they both inherited their dad’s temper and were quick to use their fists on each other at the slightest provocation. Two minutes later, they’re best friends again, taking on the world together.It’s like that all through their childhood; it’s just normal, everyday sibling fighting. Until it’s not.





	let me know (it's not just me)

**Author's Note:**

> Brady's eighteen in this (it takes place over this summer) and there's nothing in the way of warnings, just what's already tagged. Enjoy!

They grew up fighting over everything: video games, hockey, who was the better skater, who was taller, smarter. 

It wasn’t strange for it to escalate to wrestling and punching; they both inherited their dad’s temper and were quick to use their fists on each other at the slightest provocation. Two minutes later, they’re best friends again, taking on the world together.

It’s like that all through their childhood; it’s just normal, everyday sibling fighting. Until it’s not.

Until Matt’s pinning him to the floor, both of them spitting mad and ready to kill each other; Matt hasn’t been bigger than him in years, but he fights dirtier than Brady even and he doesn’t hesitate to shove his forearm into Brady’s throat and twist his nipple until Brady’s cursing and trying to buck him off, punching Matt wherever he can reach.

It’s like a flip switches in his brain and before he can really process it, he’s hard in his jeans and desperate to come. Matt notices almost immediately, can’t really miss it with the way they’re pressed together. Brady braces himself for a punch to the face that never comes; it’s a shock when Matt leans into him, shifts his leg so his thigh presses against Brady’s cock and then pinches his nipple again, his nails digging into the sensitive shin and it makes Brady moan, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure, and wanting more of both.

“Shut up,” Matt hisses and moves his arm so he can fist his hand in Brady’s hair; he pulls on it hard, the shock of pain that goes through Brady makes his dick twitch and Matt’s eyes darken, like he knows what it’s doing to him. “You want mom to come in here and see us like this,” he goes on, his voice rough and Brady shudders when he realizes that Matt’s into it, too. 

That’s the first time it happens. But it’s not the last.

*

Brady tries to tell himself it was a one-off, that he doesn’t want it to happen again, but it’s a lie and he knows it when he jerks off thinking about it later that night.

It doesn’t take long for Brady to come, pinching his nipple the same way Matt did earlier and remembering how Matt felt on top of him, Matt’s hand tight in his hair and Matt’s fingers digging into his skin.

He runs his fingers through the mess on his stomach and absently wonders what Matt’s come tastes like.

*

The next day is the same as it always is in the summer: Brady stumbles downstairs around eleven and Matt’s already awake and pestering their mom for pancakes while Taryn throws whatever small objects she can find at him and makes an exaggerated ‘who me?’ face when he turns to her in exasperation.

“Alright, stop it you two,” Mom finally says, trying to sound annoyed but Brady can hear the fondness underneath it, too, like she’s happy to have them all in one place again even if it’s only for a few months. “This is why Brady’s my favorite,” she adds with a smirk, patting Brady’s shoulder when she walks past him to get the ingredients for the pancakes down from the cupboards.

Brady preens because even half-asleep he’s a little shit who likes to have one up on his siblings; Taryn rolls her eyes and flips him off and Matt smiles at him so innocently that Brady knows Matt’s already planning on something to prank him with later.

It’s all so normal that Brady almost manages to convince himself that yesterday was just some weird, realistic hallucination, but when he ends up next to Matt at the table and Matt elbows him, it makes Brady swallow hard to force down the noise he wants to make and lean away from Matt, sure everyone can see how it’s affecting him.

Matt reaches over and pinches the inside of his thigh, _hard_ , and Brady yelps and jumps, knocks over his protein shake with his elbow, and spends the next ten minutes trying to clean up the mess while their mom lectures them about rough-housing at the table.

There’s something different about the smirk Matt gives him while he’s wiping the table off; it’s darker than usual, an edge to it that Brady’s never had directed at him before, but it makes heat pool in his stomach and the place where Matt pinched his thigh starts throbbing.

He mutters another apology before he escapes upstairs and goes straight to his room, slams his door shut behind him; he stumbles over to his bed, already shoving his shorts down to his knees along with his boxers and comes almost as soon as he wraps a hand around himself, presses the fingers on his other hand where Matt pinched him.

Brady stares up at the ceiling after he comes, tries to convince himself that he has this _thing_ , whatever it is, under control.

*

He tries to stay away from Matt for the rest of the day, but it’s like an itch under his skin, this need to find out what’s going on, to see if it Matt was in this, too, or if he just somehow imagined the last day and a half.

Brady finds him down in the basement, watching baseball highlights and messing around on his phone; he hesitates on the stairs for a few seconds, suddenly unsure if he should even be here. As much as he wants to know, part of him is starting to think it might be better to ignore what happened, just let everything go back to normal. 

Matt glances up from his phone and catches Brady staring at him, he raises an eyebrow and smirks; there’s a new awareness there for Brady, one that he thinks he sees in Matt’s eyes before he looks back down at his phone. It gives him enough courage to move.

Brady takes the rest of the stairs two at a time and collapses onto the opposite end of the couch, nudges Matt’s leg with his foot. “What’re you doing, asshole?” 

“Watching highlights from the Cards game last night,” Matt answers easily, “trying to decide if I want to go out later.”

“Don’t be lame,” Brady tells him, throat suddenly dry; Matt fixes him with a considering look and Brady feels like Matt can see everything he’s thinking, like he knows exactly what Brady was thinking about when he jerked off earlier. Like he knows Brady wants more. “We should order pizza and play _Fortnite_ , watch a movie maybe. Just hang out.”

“Now who’s lame,” Matt scoffs but he’s smiling and Brady knows that tone of voice, it means Matt’s already decided to give in, he just wants to make Brady suffer first. “I got better shit to do than staying in all night.”

“Bullshit,” Brady says and punctuates it with a solid kick to Matt’s side; Matt grunts and twists a little, tries to grab at Brady’s ankle. “No one can stand you, dickhead, don’t lie.”

He keeps kicking at Matt, getting his shoulder and arm a few times before Matt gets a hold of his ankle and squeezes it, trying to get him to stop. “Swear to god, Brady, stop fucking kicking me.”

“Or what, you’ll make me?” Brady asks and he means for it to be annoying and snotty, typical little brother shit, but it comes out like he’s trying to flirt his way into Matt’s pants, low and rough, a hint of challenge to it. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but he sees the way it makes Matt’s eyes darken and his hand tighten on Brady’s ankle and it makes need pool in Brady’s stomach. “I’m not afraid of you,” he adds and sinks back into the couch cushions, lets his other leg fall onto the floor so he’s spread out as much as possible.

“Go ahead, I fucking dare you,” Matt tells him, his voice as rough as Brady’s; he’s flushed red, eyes focused completely on Brady, like he’s the only thing worth paying attention to. 

Brady shifts a little, licks his lips and when Matt’s gaze dips down to focus on his mouth, he knows nothing’s ever going to be the same between them again.

He tries to kick his way free of the grip Matt has on him and manages to get a glancing shot in when Matt lets go; he’s disappointed for the brief second Matt isn’t touching him any more, but that disappears when Matt’s on top of him, knees on either side of his waist and Matt’s hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the couch. 

Matt drops the rest of his weight on him and it’s like a revelation when Brady feels him hard against his hip, like the fact that it’s the two of them in this makes everything else about it alright. “Fuck, Brady, does everything have to be a fight,” Matt says, but he doesn’t sound angry, just amused and fond under something Brady’s never heard directed at him before, not from his brother.

“It’s better that way,” Brady tells him, shoving his hands under Matt’s shirt and digging his fingers into Matt’s shoulders; now that he’s here, he feels greedy, like he needs to touch every inch of Matt’s skin while he’s still allowed to.

Matt makes a considering noise, like he does when he’s trying to figure out the best play to make during a game, and before Brady can make fun of him for it, he threads his fingers through Brady’s hair and pulls, moves Bardy’s head to the side so he can set his teeth in the side of Brady’s neck and bites down hard enough that Brady curses loudly, the sudden shock of pain making his eyes tear up. 

It hurts, a deep ache setting into the muscle right away, but it feels good, too, in a way Brady can’t really explain, each throb of pain from the bite making him want more, and he can’t help the way his hips jerk up, trying to get some pressure against his dick.

Matt pulls away, presses his lips to the tender skin there. “Yeah, I knew you’d like that,” he says, his voice rough; Brady can feel the way his lips move while he’s talking, brushing against the mark he left on Brady’s neck and it makes Brady moan, louder than he should be, the knowledge that someone could _hear_ them, could walk in and see them, adds to the desperate need he feels wrapping around him.

“Matt, please,” he manages to get out, everything in him wanting Matt’s hands on him; he wants to come, needs to, and he needs it to be because of Matt.

It should be embarrassing, that it takes barely anything before Brady’s falling apart like this, but he sees the same thing on Matt’s face, the echoes of what Brady’s feeling in his eyes, and it makes him feel better about being such a mess.

They don’t bother taking their clothes off, just rub off on each other; it’s better than some actual sex Brady’s had and it’s scary how happy he’d be with just this for the foreseeable future, as long as it was with Matt. It doesn’t take long for him to come, so intense that he blacks out a little.

Brady’s not sure how much time’s passed when he blinks his eyes open again; Matt’s heavy on top of him, completely relaxed in the way that means he’s almost asleep already. He should probably push Matt off of him, wake him up so they can actually talk about what’s going on. At the very least they should move away from each other, in case someone decides to come down here for something. 

Matt stirs, kisses Brady’s jaw and moves them around so they’re both more or less on their sides; he has Brady on the inside of the couch, which he usually hates, but it’s pretty nice, having Matt pressed against him like this.

“Nap for a little bit,” Matt tells him, his voice scratchy; he slides his arm around Brady’s waist and yawns in Brady’s ear before he adds, “We’ll get pizza and hang out later.”

Brady’s boxers are gross, dried come making the fabric stick to his skin and he knows he should go change; there are a lot of things he should do, but there’s only one thing he wants to do right now. 

So he closes his eyes and listens to Matt’s steady breathing until he falls asleep.


End file.
